Unforgettable
by Deana
Summary: Aramis finds himself lying in a field injured and alone. What happened to him, and where are his friends? Entry in the September 'Fete des Mousquetaires' contest: confusion.


Unforgettable  
A Musketeers story by Deana

My entry for the 'Fete des Mousquetaires' contest for August: 'Confusion'.

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Aramis lay flat on his back looking up at the sky, trying to figure out why life had to be so hard. He couldn't remember why he was lying there, and stared up in confusion for a long time as clouds above spun before his eyes, seeming to signal an oncoming whirlwind. He belatedly realized that he needed to get up to seek shelter...but then he noticed that it was his head that was spinning, not the clouds.

With a groan, Aramis closed his eyes and tried again to remember what had happened to him. Nothing came to mind, and he decided to take stock of himself to see if he was mobile. Pain throbbed through his entire body from his head down through his legs, and he sucked in his breath with a wince.

 _I need help,_ he realized.

It took Aramis two minutes to reopen his eyes, with the first minute just to realize that he'd _closed_ them. The sun came out from behind the clouds and shined right into his face, increasing the headache that was throbbing though his head. He closed them again and tried to remember for the third time what had happened to him, but once again came up empty.

Suddenly, he wondered where his friends were. "Marsac?" he called out, opening his eyes again.

No one was there.

Aramis frowned. _Not Marsac_ , he thought. He stared up at the sky as more clouds covered the sun and a light breeze ruffled his hair. _Not Marsac...someone else...?_

Aramis tried to think, and suddenly pictured a man in his mind...big, tall, and laughing loudly. _Porthos_ , he realized; his closest friend. It took him another minute to remember the other one...a quiet man who liked wine a little too much. _Athos_.

Aramis sighed with relief after remembering, but then he opened his eyes again and looked around as well as he could, wondering where they were...and why he was lying in the middle of nowhere all alone.

 _Alone..._ he thought. _I'm hurt and alone without my friends..._

Suddenly, Aramis saw himself in a snowy forest as Marsac walked away, leaving him wounded and helpless with twenty bodies. He stared after him with shock that he would do such a thing.

 _We will never abandon you,_ he suddenly heard Athos say. _Never._

Suddenly, Aramis remembered a time where he was held prisoner in the woods, drugged and confused, not knowing where he was. He'd somehow managed to escape and was chased and shot...(1)

Aramis suddenly tried to move his arm and winced from the pain that filled it. Reopening his eyes, he expected to find blood covering it, but there was none.

 _We'll always come for you, Aramis,_ he heard Porthos say.

Aramis thought back to the time when he and his two friends were searching for a wanted murderer. They'd tracked him down to an abandoned building where they'd split up, but the man had spotted him and shot him in the leg. Aramis remembered hiding with his pistol, but the man had found him and called out to the others, threatening his life with a pistol against his head. He remembered the gun going off but misfiring, saving his life. The murderer dropped him to the ground, where Porthos had grabbed him and held on tightly, babbling in shock, "It misfired! It misfired!"(2)

Aramis shifted his left leg, wincing from the pain that shot through it. Again, there was no blood, and he looked up at the clouds, still confused over where he was and what had happened to him. Taking a deep breath, pain shot through his back and he coughed with a wince, bringing him back to a time when he'd been chasing a thief and fallen off a roof, bruising his lungs. They'd then had the hottest day in years, and the stifling heat had rendered Aramis hardly able to breathe, his lungs weak and aching fiercely.(3) His mind suddenly brought him to another time when he'd nearly drowned...or _did_ drown, according to his friends. He'd been pushed into a lake and been brought out not breathing. Treville had smacked his back until he'd coughed up the water...but not all of it, and he'd suffered for days with painful coughing.(4)

Treville!

Aramis reopened his eyes again at the recollection of his captain. He'd joined the musketeers the year that it'd been founded, when he'd been only twenty years old. Captain Treville had become a father-figure to him and had always been there when he'd needed him, including a time when he'd been ill with a very high fever. Aramis still only remembered bits and pieces of the four days that he'd lain delirious or senseless, but he could recall Treville holding him up in one arm as he carefully fed him water before gently laying him back down and patting a wet cloth over his face. He remembered the comfort that it had brought him, even though he'd been barely able to communicate.(5)

Aramis looked up at the clouds again, feeling confused once more. Why was he lying on the ground in the middle of nowhere, and where were his friends?

 _Just rest,_ he heard Porthos say. _You'll be fine._

Aramis thought back to the time that he'd witnessed a kidnapping and thought that he'd accidentally killed the innocent victim instead of her attacker. He'd fired his pistol and the woman had fallen instead of the man; he'd obtained a concussion during the incident, and he remembered how his two friends and Treville had tried so hard to comfort him.(6)

 _It isn't your fault, Aramis…you can't blame yourself, Aramis…it was an accident, Aramis…_

Aramis closed his eyes with a wince as despair filled him, before he remembered that he _hadn't_ killed her; when the ball had been removed from the woman's body, it was revealed to not be one of his. He sighed with relief, before suddenly wishing for chocolate, something that Athos had introduced him to when he was recovering from the Savoy massacre.

After Savoy, Aramis had been a mess. A severe concussion and stab wound had keep him mostly in bed for a month, and Marsac's betrayal had left him reeling with shock and grief. He remembered how he'd practically stopped eating and lost a lot of weight. Athos had brought him chocolate one day, which he poured into milk and heated over the fire. Aramis had fallen in love with the drink, having no idea that his friend was spending a small fortune to buy it. He'd found out that Porthos and Treville had contributed their own funds as well, and he'd been moved nearly to tears at the lengths that they would go to for him.(7)

Aramis opened his eyes again to the same sight of moving clouds. Why was he still lying there? His friends should've found him by now. Were they all lying injured as well, waiting for _him_?

A thrill of fear shot through Aramis and he tried to get up, not even knowing where he was supposed to go. Pain filled his body and he gasped, unable to move...and his mind drifted back to another time, when he and the others were on a mission to retrieve a French captain who had turned traitor to work for Spain. He'd been suffering terrible dizzy spells and lightheadedness for two days before they'd left and hadn't told anyone, and upon waking at their campsite the third morning, he was too dizzy to get up. Rather than tell the others and make them worry, he'd started a teasing conversation with Porthos that he couldn't easily lift him. Porthos had stomped over and lifted him into the air as if he weighed nothing and Aramis' secret was safe...of course, that was until the dizziness had gotten so bad that he'd fallen unconscious from his horse some time later. They'd later determined that he'd been poisoned by none other than Cardinal Richelieu...though at the moment, he couldn't remember why.(8)

A sudden rumbling sound drew Aramis' eyes open again, and he saw that the clouds had completely covered the sun. The bright day had darkened, and he realized that the sound had been thunder.

Rain was the _last_ thing he needed, and he suddenly remembered riding to the garrison one evening with a splitting headache and a baby clutched to his chest under his cloak. _Juliette,_ he remembered, with a fond smile. He'd found her on his way home and he and his friends had tried to locate her mother. They'd succeeded, and given her back...though Aramis had wished that he could've kept her.(9)

 _You would give up everything, even being a musketeer?_ Treville had asked. He didn't quite remember what his answer had been, but it was obviously no, otherwise he wouldn't be lying on the ground in the middle of nowhere without his friends or memory of what had happened.

Thunder rumbled again, but it was softer. No rain was falling, and Aramis wondered if the storm was merely close by and heading further away. If so, then God had spared him from getting wet on top of his other problems.

 _God._ Aramis' eyes popped open again. God was with him always, he'd been taught, and he firmly believed it. His friends weren't there right now, but _He_ was. "God," he prayed aloud. "I don't know what I'm doing here or what happened...but please, send Porthos and Athos to find me, or I might be stuck here for a while."

Aramis suddenly remembered another time that he'd been wounded and alone. He and his two friends had been given the task of delivering a message for the king and retrieving a reply, but had been attacked on the way back by three men and the reply was stolen. Aramis had gone after the thief while Athos and Porthos battled the other two, and after shooting the man and getting the message back, Aramis had been shot by the dying thief. The bullet had gone straight through his left arm from the side and lodged in his ribs. It was winter and very cold, and after failing to find his friends, he'd headed towards Paris in the hope that they would find him. Eventually, loss of blood combined with exposure to the winter elements overcame him and he lost consciousness, falling from his horse and landing in the snow. He had no idea how long he lay there before his friends found him and brought him to a nearby inn.(10)

 _Is there an inn around here?_ he wondered.

Aramis sighed and closed his eyes, exhausted. His entire body was throbbing with pain, and it was wearing on him. _Maybe I'll just sleep…_ he thought. _When I wake up, I'll be home…_

 _No, Aramis, stay awake!_ Porthos' voice suddenly sounded in his mind.

 _Wake up, Aramis!_

 _Aramis?_

 _Aramis?_

"Aramis!"

Hands were suddenly grasping his shoulders, and Aramis opened his eyes to see a familiar face above him that instantly triggered another memory.

 _Aramis found himself lying in a pile of wood and fruit with pain throbbing through his body. He was suffering from a cold and had just been chasing a thief. Unfortunately, he'd sneezed and lost his balance, and when the thief came around the corner, they'd collided and Aramis had been sent smashing into a merchant's cart. He'd lain there wincing until his friends caught up and knelt beside him.(_ _11)_

 _"Are you injured?" Athos had asked._

 _"My pride, mostly," Aramis replied, which was actually a complete lie, as the entire left side of his body would be black and blue for two weeks._

 _"No need for that, everyone thinks you tackled him," said d'Artagnan, sweeping apples off him. "You're their hero!"_

"D'Artagnan?" Aramis gasped, coming back to the present. "How could I forget _you_?"

D'Artagnan frowned. "What?"

"Is he all right?" Porthos asked, as he and Athos reached them and dismounted.

D'Artagnan shook his head with a frown. "I'm not sure."

Aramis lay there blinking dazedly, saying nothing else.

"Aramis," Porthos said, dropping to his knees. "What happened? Are you all right?"

Aramis looked at him with a frown. "I don't know. Where are we? What are we doing here?"

Porthos and Athos shared a concerned glance.

"What is the last thing you recall?" said Athos.

Aramis thought for a minute before looking at d'Artagnan.

 _How old are you really?_ d'Artagnan had recently asked him.(12)

"D'Artagnan thinks I'm thirty-two," Aramis told them. "Well, that would be thirty-three now. But I'm only twenty-eight…I mean, twenty-nine."

The looks of shock on their faces would've been comical in different circumstances.

"Your birthday was months ago, Aramis!" said Porthos.

D'Artagnan was shocked speechless.

"Where are you hurt?" Athos asked.

"Everywhere. I can't get up," Aramis told them with a wince.

Panic filled each one of them and they all looked up at the sky before back at Aramis again.

"Did you hit your head?" Porthos asked.

" _That_ seems obvious," said Athos. He reached out to take hold of Aramis' arm. "Can you feel this?"

"Yes," Aramis said.

Porthos, on Aramis' other side, repeated the test on his other arm and they were relieved to get an affirmative answer. D'Artagnan scooted away to poke at their fallen friend's legs, and Aramis felt that too.

"Have you lost feeling anywhere?" Athos asked.

Aramis thought for a moment. "No."

They checked him for broken bones and didn't find any, which surprised them all and they looked up at the sky again.

Aramis didn't understand why they kept doing that, but he was too confused over everything to ask.

"We're going to sit you up, Aramis," Athos told him. "Let us do the work."

Aramis obeyed, remaining still as arms slid under him from both sides and pulled him upright. Pain shot through his body and he sucked in a gasp, closing his eyes when his head spun again.

"Take it easy, take it easy," Porthos said, holding onto him tightly.

Aramis kept his eyes closed, head lowered as he breathed heavily. He felt three sets of hands on him, ensuring that he remained steady.

The other three were patient as they waited for him to gain control. Athos carefully felt around his back, ensuring that nothing seemed out of place.

Aramis groaned from the touch, and when he reopened his eyes, found them all glancing up again. "What…are you…staring at?" he asked.

They all looked at him, and Porthos shook his head. "You still don't remember?"

"No!" Aramis answered, exasperated.

"We were utilizing your skills as sharpshooter," said Athos. "You climbed this tree and we went ahead to confront Arcand, but things didn't go as planned and you never fired."

Aramis looked at Athos as if he'd grown another head. He had no idea who Arcand was, or why he was supposed to shoot him.

"Don't you understand, Aramis?" said d'Artagnan. "You fell out of the tree! You're lucky to be alive!"

Aramis was shocked at that but said nothing, continuing to breathe heavily.

Porthos carefully felt the back of their injured friend's head and found a large lump. "There's the culprit."

Aramis flinched.

"Come," said Athos. "We need to get you back to the garrison."

All three of them got a good grip on Aramis and carefully pulled him to his feet, holding on tightly when his knees buckled and he leaned against Porthos.

Aramis closed his eyes against the pain that throbbed through his head and body. He couldn't hold back another groan, and someone let go of him for a moment and he felt the presence of a horse beside him a moment later. "I can't get on that," he said, without opening his eyes.

"Don't worry," said Porthos. "We'll get you up there."

It took a group effort, but two minutes later, Aramis was in the saddle with Porthos behind him. After he took a minute to breathe through the pain, Aramis finally looked up at the tree, and his memories returned. He remembered climbing it and getting as high as possible on a thick branch that he thought would hold his weight, but the branch had broken and sent him crashing to the ground. "I remember," he said.

Athos and d'Artagnan looked at him.

"Everything?" d'Artagnan asked.

Aramis nodded his throbbing head. "Everything."

Three sighs of relief filled the air.

"Let's go," said Athos, kicking his horse into a walk.

As they rode—slowly, for Aramis' sake—Porthos suddenly asked, "You didn't forget _me_ , did you, Aramis?"

Aramis smiled slightly, eyes closed as he rested against his friend. "Of course not, Porthos," he answered, and it wasn't really a lie, since Porthos _was_ the first one he'd remembered. "You're unforgettable."

THE END

1\. We'll Always Come for You: story ID 11533723

2: Truly Blessed: story ID 11970725

3\. Just Breathe: story ID 11899509

4\. The Plot: story ID 11628398

5\. Things aren't what they Seem: story ID 11946024

6\. Despair: story ID 11803109

7\. Back from the Brink: story ID 12088441

8\. Unfit for Duty: story ID 11465292

9\. Heaven Sent: story ID 11994939

10\. Frozen: story ID 11692929

11\. Looks can be Deceiving: story ID 11709057

12\. A Musketeer's Duty: story ID 11427270 chapter 12 (Aramis' Birthday)


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